The Common Thread (21 page)

“How’d your presentation go?” Rae inquired politely as they awaited the elevator.

Nic’s pulse pounded. The presentation had gone remarkably well. The audience was attentive, asked questions, and seemed intrigued. She was certain she’d be asked to speak again. “Really well, thanks,” she said, and smiled, meeting Rae’s dark eyes. She detected genuine interest there and was beginning to suspect that Rae took an interest in most things, and most people. They were polar opposites in that regard.

“Is this something you do often?” Rae asked as they stepped into the wood paneled elevator. Rae pressed the button on the wall and directed it to the parking garage.

“It’s sort of standard to present cases during residency. Not so much now, though.” She looked at Rae and realized that was precisely what she did for a living—present cases. “You do this every day, huh? Present your case?”

“Not every day,” Rae said, smiling. “But enough.”

“I guess it’s hard to function as an attorney if you’re shy, then, huh?”

“It helps to have a little cocky in you.”

Nic burst out laughing. “Then I imagine you’re fabulous at your job.” Actually, she’d been impressed with how Rae had handled the morning and told her so again.

Rae shrugged off the praise. “It’s what I do.”

“Well, thanks again. And in case I’m too awed to speak when we get there—thanks for the Barnes.” Their eyes again met and held for a moment, but before Rae could reply, the elevator door opened and they both averted their gaze. They exited and walked side by side in the direction Rae indicated.

“You’re welcome,” Rae said after a moment. “I’m happy to have an art lover to share it with.”

“Have you been here before?” Nic asked after a minute.

They reached the car, an older-model Mercedes-Benz convertible, and Rae smiled slyly. “Yeah. I have a membership. That’s how I got the tickets.”

“Oh. I thought Louis said you hated art.”

Rae laughed as she started the car. “You must have me confused with someone else. Is it okay if I put the top down?”

“Oh, yes, of course. And you like foreign films?”

“Is this a quiz show?”

“Yes. How many times have you been to the Barnes?”

“How many times?” Rae seemed to ponder the question. “I can’t say. I usually go three or four times a week, just for an hour or so.”

Nic’s jaw dropped. “You have got to be kidding me.”

“One of the benefits of living downtown.”

“I guess I was busy working and sleeping when I lived here, because I didn’t seem to make it to a museum more than once a month.”

They were stopped as Rae waited for traffic to pass, and she turned to Nic. “That’s really a shame.”

Nic sank back in her seat, thinking. She was sure Louis had told her Rae hated art. Why would he lie? Unless—“Hey, Rae? Did Louis happen to make any suggestions to you about me?”

“I’m not sure what you mean,” she casually replied, and a glance in her direction showed no evidence of deceit. Rae looked relaxed and, well, stunning behind the wheel.

“Did he suggest you wear cologne? Or state your opinion very firmly? Or talk very loudly?”

Rae glanced at her, the furrowed brows showing her confusion. “He did mention that you like the aggressive, take-charge type. And cologne, too. Why?”

Nic laughed and patted Rae’s leg. “I’m not sure what our boy’s up to, but he set us up to fail.”

“You mean—?”

“Yes. I don’t like to argue. And all scents trigger migraines, so I avoid them at all costs.”

Rae frowned in thought. “I never would’ve thought Louis capable of such subterfuge. What’s that about?”

Nic shook her head, baffled. “I have no idea. But last night he mentioned that you were too nice for me, so apparently he thinks we’re not well suited for each other. Maybe he was just trying to help us come to the same conclusion.”

“Hmm. I wonder,” Rae said and then they were both silent.

“Why don’t we start over, Rae? Would that be okay with you?”

Rae grinned from ear to ear in response.

“Do you know the whole story of the Barnes?”

“You mean about the controversy over moving it downtown?”

“Yeah.”

“I have a feeling you know more.”

Rae roared. “I am a know-it-all sometimes. But I’m a great partner to have in all trivia games.”

“I’ll keep that in mind. Tell me the whole story. About the Barnes.” As they drove, and then as they walked, Rae related what she knew about the hostile takeover of the Barnes collection. From the legal point of view of trust funds and donor intentions, it was quite fascinating.

Dr. Barnes had amassed a fortune from his discovery of the treatment for gonorrhea, and used it to collect masterpieces of all kinds—paintings, statues, artifacts and more. He kept his treasures private, and upon his death a trust was set up to care for it. Barnes was eccentric, though, and his legacy was quite complicated by the terms of his will. He despised the way museums housed and displayed their works. He was a champion of the common man and wanted him, as well as poor students, to have access to these masterpieces. The Barnes Foundation, had it been financially stable, would have fulfilled all of the doctor’s dreams. Inflation caused financial problems, though, and over time, Barnes’s mission became harder to sustain. In an effort to protect and preserve forty billion dollars’ worth of art, lawsuits were filed to move the pieces to a modern site. Opponents of the move argued that it was Dr. Barnes’s right to have the art stay at his home in Lower Merion, even if staying there put the works at risk.

As they sat on a bench outside the museum, waiting for their assigned entrance time, Rae finished the tale. “So, what do you think?”

“About what?”

Rae shrugged. “C’mon, Nic. We don’t have to argue, but can’t we discuss? Debate? Something tells me you’re not afraid to speak your mind, so pick a side. Were they right to move the Barnes downtown?”

“It’s a difficult question to answer.” She closed her eyes, feeling the sunshine on her face, and enjoyed the simple pleasure of its warmth. It was true that she spoke her mind, typically, but that didn’t automatically translate into a desire to debate. In fact, the opposite was true. Debate required too much give-and-take, too much social energy. And she was having an absolutely wonderful time with Rae—why ruin it?

“You sound like a politician.” Rae studied her, conscious of her own breath catching, of the slight elevation of her pulse rate as she studied Nic’s body—from the features of her face, softened by this relaxed pose, to the lines of her neck and the swell of her breasts, rising and falling with each breath.

This was an erotic picture of a beautiful woman, as magnificent as anything painted on the canvases of the masters in the museum beyond the sidewalk. And this woman was alive, and vibrant, and destined to spend the next few hours with her.

Rae wasn’t sure what had driven her impulse to ask Nic out today. Heaven knows it wasn’t the overwhelming success of their first meeting. If that were the only issue in play, Rae would have been quite content to never see Nic again. Nic’s behavior had been rude, and her arrogance had shone through the thin veil of social grace with which she’d attempted to conceal it. And if Nic had a sense of humor, she kept it well hidden.

Yet, to Rae’s surprise and confusion, Nic appealed to her anyway. Nic was intelligent—that was evident from both the degrees hanging on her walls and from the conversation they’d shared. She was a beauty, possessing all the physical features Rae found attractive—long dark hair and vibrant eyes and a trim figure. She even met the height requirement. She was a patron of the arts and well traveled. Mostly, though, Rae thought there just had to be more to Nicole Coussart than she’d been allowed to see the evening before. Birds of a feather, she told herself.

Louis was one of the kindest, funniest, most genuine human beings she’d ever met. If she had any notion of attraction to the opposite sex—and she had exactly zero—Louis would have been the man for her. In fact, her parents, who held out hope that she would meet the right man one day, in spite of her gentle and persistent reminders otherwise, had suggested that very thing. That Rae marry Louis. This after they shared one dinner with him during a stop over in Philly en route to the beach.

As if having a very successful and wonderful friendship with a man could somehow be translated into the kind of passion that resulted in a lifetime commitment. It could not, of course, and Rae was pleased to have him for a friend, for she didn’t have the same reservations about her sexuality that troubled her parents. Her attraction to girls had begun on the playground as a child and never wavered. It had only grown stronger as she began to understand it and embrace it. She never doubted that she wanted to make love with women, and only women, no matter how nice a friend she’d found in Louis.

Because of him, though, she supposed, she held out hope that Nicole might be more than she’d revealed at first glance. And because of him she was willing to take a closer look. It was just not possible that Nicole, being Louis’s friend, could be
that
bad.

“Not a politician. Just an art lover, and I’m thrilled at the chance to see one of the greatest exhibits of the masters the world has ever known.”

Nic smiled as she made her reply, knowing it would please her parents, but more so because she knew it would elicit further debate from Rae.

“I knew it. I knew you’d be in favor of the move.” Rae slapped her thigh for emphasis.

Nicole dared to open one eye and kept her voice flat, unemotional. “You’re very annoying, Rae.”

“You shouldn’t say that until after I’ve gotten you through the front door. Remember, I still have your ticket.”

Nic bit her lip, suppressing a smile. It was difficult to believe how much she liked Rae, with her keen intelligence, sharp wit, and boundless energy. If she hadn’t been in such a bad mood last night, the evening might not have been a total waste after all. “You’re so very kind to bring me here, Rae,” she said, with an excess of flattery. “I’m so grateful to you. You’re a wonderful person.”

Leaning back against the bench, Rae looked to the cloud-filled sky and laughed. Nic studied her in this pose. Gazing at the lines of her throat, the curve of her breasts beneath the double layer of shirts, the joy on Rae’s face—the breath caught in her throat. There would be no paucity of debate between them on any subject, but no one could argue one simple point—Rae was a cutie. Blushing at the thought, she cleared a suddenly dry throat and looked away before Rae could notice her flush. No doubt she’d ask Nic what had caused it. Turning to the watch adorning her wrist, Nic said, “It’s time.”

Silently they walked to the entrance, side by side, and Nic didn’t pull away when Rae gently placed her hand on the small of her back to guide her in the right direction.

“How would you like to do this?” Rae asked, and Nic understood the question immediately. They only had a few hours. No one could appreciate a museum of this size with a drive-by sort of approach. They’d have to skip total sections. Nic had to decide how to make the most of her time.

“Since it’s my first visit, I think a walk-through would be great. Next time, after I know what I want to see…” She let the statement hang there, a carrot teasingly dangled in front of Rae, who pounced on it.

“I can get tickets for tomorrow, if you’re nice to me.”

“I find it very taxing to be nice.”

“I got that impression.”

It was playful banter, and both of them appreciated the change from their prior time together.

“I can be, though, if I’m sufficiently motivated.”

“Well, if the Barnes can’t motivate an art lover, nothing can.”

They presented their tickets and walked through the entrance, and suddenly emotion overwhelmed Nic. Raising her head she saw lights so carefully positioned, heard the crisp, clear echoes of the voices around her, felt the dry, cool air across her forehead. And as she looked at Rae, she noticed, not for the first time, the magnificence of her smile.

Nic was pleasantly surprised to realize the emotion she was feeling was called happiness.

“Attorney Chapman’s office, how can I help you?”

Simon listened to the conversation on speaker, watching from a few feet away as Angelica recited her lines.

“Hi, this is Katie Finan. Can I talk to Mr. Chapman?”

“Who may I ask is calling?” the voice on the other end of the phone asked.

“Katie Finan,” Angelica repeated, more slowly and deliberately this time.

“And what is this about?” the woman asked.

Angelica took a deep breath and spoke. “I’m a client of Mr. Chapman, and I need to talk to him about my trust fund.”

“Hold on, please,” she said.

Simon sat beside her on the couch and could hear classical music playing as Angelica was put on hold. Smothering the phone in her ample chest to dampen the sound, she whispered to him. “This could be the one. She sounds very uppity. Kind of like Katie.”

In spite of his growing frustration, Simon laughed. Angelica had the ability to lighten his mood, and at this moment, it was quite dark. He needed to find Katie before she spoke to the police, and the clock was ticking. The longer it took to find her, the better the chance the police would find her first. Given enough time, she might even get scared enough to contact them. If that happened, he was in trouble. She not only knew his name and what he looked like, but she’d seen him at the beach. It wouldn’t take her long to figure out his secret, if she hadn’t already.

Simon was running out of ideas. Katie hadn’t been home since the shooting; no one except the police had been in the house since they’d encircled it with yellow police crime-scene tape early that morning. A boy watching the house had been given a crisp fifty-dollar bill to watch the place, and Simon was confident that if Katie showed up there, he’d know it. Another hired hand had spent the day watching the clinic where she worked, and he too reported no signs of her. The police were there, though, staking out the place. Her kids hadn’t gone to school, and they weren’t in the church basement, where senior citizens helped working moms by babysitting a few hours each day. No one on the streets had seen her. It was if she’d disappeared. Not an easy task, with two kids in tow.